Colmcille Climbers

And Sho,

 Having been ensconced for far, far, far too long in the murky world of vertical academia it had became aparent that it was indeed time to return to being scared, whilst in the act of doing something exceptionally foolish.

 0730hrs and on the wee ferry to Aranmore, the remit of todays activities was a long lonely paddle to a distant beast, alas time was of the essensence as the thunder gods had penciled in a session for about 1100am. 

 Parked the car at the Cronagarn road end and carried the beasts of burden North East for a KM and carefully descended the 150m Quartz slopes down to sea level. The overnight North East wind had freshened and produced a constant 2/3 metre NE swell, alas this was creating a tad of white water violence along my intended launch site.

 OH, what to do, what to do?

 After deliberations had abated a plan was descided.

 "Thingsh are about to get Shpishy." I shaid to myshelf.

 So, I was about to break the only rule of Fight Club, inflated the boat, stripped off down to the unmentionables, filled the dry bag with the toys and rigged it to a 60m half rope. I then threw the drybag as far as I could into the black water and clovehitched the half rope to my right wrist, this was my drogue in the event I didn't clear the wrathe.

 And so it came to pass, standing in my unmentionables with the drogue 30m out to sea and clove hitched to right wrist, the dingy clove hitched to the left wrist I now stood 20ft above the 20ft band of white water violence below me. All that was left to do was walk back a bit, run and make a fucking big leap out in to the sea, at the same time throwing the dingy to the left so as not to land on it.

 It was during the act of flying through the air that I had a moment of doubt, it was only when landing a few metres into the white water and immediately began to tumble in the washing machine, that this previous doubt was confirmed. I pulled along the lanyard to my trusted Drogue and clambed into the boat a quick furious paddle and I was 50m from shore.

 The wave frequency and height was such that the wee dingy was "flexing" alarmingly and the wind was doing it's best to be as unhelpful as possible. A command decision was made and I headed along the coast to a much more amenable and friendly stack. This 35m baby blue was in the lea of the headland to it's North and after an emotional paddle I landed on it's slabby East face. HURRA!

 Donned the climbing shoes and a chalk bag and in basking sunshine in the lea of our friendly headland I spent the next hour or so soloing all the obvious lines on the beast. The stack was composed of immaculate Fellspar Quartz and not a single hint of loose rock was to be found anywhere on it! 

 But alas, like all good things, they come to an end and all that was left to dowas a much more relaxed paddle Eastward to a massive storm beach and a atmospheric scramble to the salvation of the barren clifftops. HURRA!

 The Thunder gods never kept their appointment, so Aranmore basked in roasting sunshine for the rest of the day. :-)